


Not All Roses

by lily_zen



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drama, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_zen/pseuds/lily_zen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaoru and Die go through a rough patch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All Roses

Not All Roses

 

Genre: angstttt, romance

Pairings: duh….dxk

Warnings: I’m feeling depressed, so naturally I choose to take it out on Die and Kao.

Archive: Ask

Rating: PG-13

 

By: Lily Zen

 

Notes: These poor guys. In my angsty teenage years, I pretty much took it all out on them.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

 

*

 

Outside the doorway, there he stands. Tall and thin, looking tired and worn, red hair falling in his eyes. He says he sorry. I believe him, but that doesn’t make the hurt go away. It doesn’t take away my pain.

 

We’ve been fighting so much lately. It’s slowly starting to drive me mad. I’m so sick of defending myself against him, the one person I should have been able to trust always. Why now? There have been so many other opportunities to fall apart on each other, to break away and abandon what we’d devoted so much of our time and energy into.

 

I mean, there was the anorexia. Die had to be hospitalized, but never once did I even think of leaving him. I remember how he’d try to eat and just end up getting sick to his stomach—I wanted to cry, and stomp my feet, and whine like a petulant child until I got my way and Die was magically better—but never did I think of abandoning him.

 

Then there was my brief slip into depression and alcoholism. Things were turbulent then. The doctors had to detoxify me, and all I can remember is the hallucinations—dark, horrible, frightening; my nightmares come to life—and the worried brown eyes of my lover gazing down at me, clutching my hand, anchoring me to life. After that, it was merely a matter of my own resolve, which I will admit was much harder to retain than I’m making it seem.

 

There are dozens of other times though that we could have left each other—the rise to fame, the time he fucked Toshiya in a drunken haze, and even that time when he kissed Shinya onstage—believe me, we fought long and hard about that.

 

Still we keep clinging to each other like staying afloat on broken rafts. Why do we stay? My reason is simply that I love him too much to let go. He’s my heart, my soul, my mind, my blood, my breath. I could go on and on, but I’ll refrain. In short, I think without him I’d die.

 

I wish sometimes that I could tell how he felt. Occasionally the thought comes that if he really loves me, then why does he do this to me? The answer is that it’s not intentional. We’ve just grown so used to having each other around that we take each other’s feelings for granted. Humans grow careless.

 

Still, the spirit is as fragile as a flower. Leave it unattended and surely it will wither and die. Either from lack of nourishment, or from being left unprotected in the frigid cold of winter. However, with the careful tending of a gardener, a flower can grow to be the most beautiful thing on the planet.

 

I’m withering.

 

Die’s withering.

 

When did I lose my green thumb?

 

“Kaoru,” he manages to choke out, looking as though he’s about to burst into tears. In that moment, I don’t care where he’s been or if he’s been fucking someone else yet again. I know they mean nothing to him.

 

He clings to me just as surely as I cling to him; vines forever twined around our appendages, invisible to any outsider’s eye, but linking us together even when miles apart. No one could ever truly take him from me—not even death, for I would follow if he truly is the only sustenance that sustains me.

 

My arms are around him, and his around me, and I feel that perhaps this is my sunlight, this is my rain. If I were a rose, I would bloom—pink as the blush on a virgin’s cheeks, full, and fragrant. He kisses me, chastely, innocently, tears mingling on both our lips.

 

I cannot remember what we fought so fiercely over. Here, nothing is certain. Time does not matter, nor do past hurts. Gardens can always be planted again.

 

-FIN-

 


End file.
